


Leave all your love and your longing behind

by amusensical



Series: Forging a Bond [1]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: 18-Month Time Gap (Rusty Quill Gaming), Broken but not lost, Canon Compliant, M/M, Possible Spoilers after Episode 115, Puppy Carter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:55:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28392021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amusensical/pseuds/amusensical
Summary: “Dogs just want to be good. You just make it really clear what you want, and let them know when they do it. You don’t let them stray around, you give them a purpose. Good dogs will mind you. Good dogs are happy dogs, and they make you happy, too.”
Relationships: James Barnes/Howard Carter
Series: Forging a Bond [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079369
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	Leave all your love and your longing behind

It’s been weeks of walking, keeping the sound of the sea to their right and sleeping rough a mile or two inland. On the road during the day they are just two more, trudging along in the stream of folk heading away from the ruin that was Paris and the horror, they hear, that is London. Barnes has to pretend some, slumping his shoulders and resisting the rhythm of the march. There is no pretense, though, in Carter’s shamble. He still doesn’t really know how he got here, and he follows Barnes’ blue jacket because it’s the only thing he recognizes. 

Next to their tiny fire at night, they make the type of small talk that is effortless to educated men of their time. Separately and together, they mourn the collapse of the world they knew with stories from university, from drawing rooms, from the horsehair sofa in grandmother’s parlor.

“My sister had a cat,” Carter says during one of their quiet, aimless conversations. “It was the most imperious creature. And infuriating. All I wanted to do was pet it, like it let my sister do, but whenever I reached out it would slink away, then it would look at me.”

“Never had a cat,” says Barnes. “Had a dog, though.”

“You know those madames? This cat was like that. Absolutely in charge, but if you did just what it wanted maybe you could pet it a little. The fur on that cat’s belly was so soft.” Carter fell silent. There hasn’t been anything soft for so long. “I wonder whatever happened to that cat.” And to my sister, he didn’t say. “What kind of dog?”

“Never knew,” says Barnes. “Near the Dover station, there was a kennel with dogs that were let out to hunt rats, or guard a pier, that sort of thing. The kennelman never said much about breeds. Some were right fierce, but they always minded him.”

“What do you mean?”

“This kennelman, he would walk along the docks, and there would be a dozen or more dogs ranged around him, all sizes, and he never had a rope or even raised his voice. He would stop to talk with someone, and all those dogs would just stop, then go on again when he was ready.”

“Was it a spell or something?” 

“Nah, and I can tell you for sure because he taught it to me. One of the bitches whelped, and he offered a pup to me to have at the station. In those times it was predictable, so I could take the time to work on raising a pup.”

“So what was it?”

“Dogs just want to be good. You just make it really clear what you want, and let them know when they do it. You don’t let them stray around, you give them a purpose. Good dogs will mind you. Good dogs are happy dogs, and they make you happy, too.” There is a softness in Barnes’ face, a sort of weary nostalgia. 

“Where’s that dog now?” 

“Lost, during the overrun. Maybe still at the station, except there’s probably nobody left to remember from before. Maybe somewhere else. There are villages along the coast that might still be all right.” Bleakness replaces the nostalgia. 

There’s about another week of walking, of the dust and the silent people and the blue jacket moving resolutely forward. 

Months pass. Mostly Carter helps in one of the way stations, because he is clever and people don’t fear him. Barnes comes through every couple of weeks, and one time mentions that soon they will need everyone to fight. Carter finds sparring partners, old tavern brawlers, raging teenagers. A glowering woman tries to teach him some arcane hand-to-hand combat, but he quits after a finger sprain interferes with his lockpicking skills. 

Carter finds himself following the blue jacket again, traveling with Barnes and about a dozen others. There are raids, expeditions to gather up people and supplies from the edges of the eerie cities. One afternoon they turn a corner into a relentless, blank-faced crowd. They are overwhelmed, and Carter hears nothing but the thud of rocks and Barnes, shouting, hauling him away by his coat collar, and the blood rushing in his ears as they run.

After that encounter they have to quarantine, in the old jail in the mostly empty village, just one cell with cots and blankets and books. They sleep for most of three days, and someone thoroughly inspects their skin before each evening meal. Carter becomes more and more restless. He paces in front of the ancient bars, only a few steps in each direction, back and forth, looking out as if there’s something to see, as if someone will arrive.

“Carter.” Barnes is sitting on a cot, calmly looking through a book.

“What. Sorry. What?” Carter doesn’t stop, just walks back and forth. He looks at Barnes quickly, and something in the look makes Barnes set the book aside. 

“You can stop for a bit. It’s all right to rest.” Barnes shifts on the cot, sitting up straighter, all of his attention on Carter. 

“I know. I will. Sorry. It’s just, I don’t.” Carter stops pacing but isn’t quite still, back against the cell door, hands gripping bars. “I mean, I don’t know.”

“Carter. Come here. Sit.” Barnes holds out his hand and beckons. “That’s it. Come on.” 

Carter takes the three steps across the cell and stops, his knee next to Barnes’ knee, looking down. His jaw is tight, and his nostrils flare as if he would bolt at the next sound. The only sound is his breath, and there is nowhere to go. 

“Hey. It’s all right. You can sit right here by me.” Barnes points to the blanket on the floor next to the cot. Carter raises his chin, wide eyed. 

“Carter. Sit.” 

He doesn’t collapse, exactly, but moves to sit so quickly that he has to catch himself on the cot, then turn as he lowers himself to the floor, leaning against the cot. 

The hand Barnes was pointing with is firm on Carter’s shoulder. Carter looks up into Barnes’ steady gaze and inhales, then exhales slowly. His mouth is a little open, but his eyes have lost their wildness. He leans into Barnes, arm against his thigh, and exhales again, almost a sigh.

“You’re good,” says Barnes. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Dog Days are Over" Florence + The Machine  
> Inspired by a conversation about Carter's "puppy energy," this turned out to be about the adventures and relationship of Barnes and Carter. It's also about what happened in the world and to our people during the Rome time gap. This is my first foray into fiction for many years, and it has been a process of discovery and (mostly) fun.  
> Unending gratitude and affection to the Romans! Special shout out [Desilite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desilite/pseuds/Desilite) for camaraderie and support in the sprints channel.


End file.
